One Safe Place
by seanbiggerstaffrox
Summary: During the battle with the Alpha, Stiles makes a sacrifice to keep Scott safe. Rated M for Violence and Language. Warning: This story is pretty dark and deals with a Major Character Death. Also contains murder and banter. Slightly angsty.


**Now:**

_Stiles sat in the counselor's office again, Ms. Morrell staring at him seriously from across her desk. _

"_We have to stop meeting like this." Stiles joked weakly, his voice cracking. _

_Ms. Morrell raised a delicate eyebrow, offering a small lift of her lips in response. "And how would you prefer we meet?" _

_Stiles shrugged. "Picnic, beach, lacrosse game – you know, casual, no dead bodies." He said, fiddling with the sleeve of his plaid button-up. He had no lacrosse stick to play with this time. He could have really used it. _

_Ms. Morrell looked at him curiously. "What about Jackson?" She asked._

_Right – lacrosse game. Dead Jackson. He kept forgetting about that. _

"_Ah." He muttered, casting his eyes over the wall behind her. No photos. Odd._

"_You want to talk about Jackson?" _

"_Not really."_

"_Why not?"_

_Stiles frowned. "I didn't really like Jackson." _

"_Did you like Derek?" Ms. Morrell asked. It was weird, the way her voice never changed regardless of what she was talking about. It micro-inflected, though there was an earnest quality, like she made every question count. It reminded him of his dad, actually. _

_Stiles gulped, shifting uncomfortably. "Not really." He confessed, looking at the little window to the side of her desk. It was too high to really see anything but the wash of blue sky outside. It was sunny. Warm. _

"_Stiles, what happened to Derek?" Ms. Morrell asked, leaning forward in her seat and staring at him intensely. _

**Two Weeks Earlier:**

The alpha battle was already underway when Derek and Stiles got separated from the rest of the pack. They were out in the desert, the middle of nowhere, hunting one of the twins.

The sun was high in the sky, everything too hot and too bright. Derek was hunkered down low, sniffing while keeping razor sharp eyes on the horizon.

"Getting anything?" Stiles asked.

Derek frowned. "No." He growled, glancing at Stiles and glaring. "It'd be easier if you'd stayed back at the hotel." He grumbled.

Stiles huffed. "Where I can wait for your girlfriend to tear me to shreds? No thanks."

Derek flinched. The fact that he'd been dating an alpha was still a sore spot. Not that it was surprising, because he'd had no qualms about keeping Peter in the pack. The pack of emotionally unstable teenagers he'd bitten. Yeah, judgement? Not Derek's strong suit.

"You had mountain ash." Derek argued.

"Great, so I'll make a circle around the building and wait for someone to catch onto the fact that a little huff and puff is all it takes to break the ring of magical powder." Stiles wiggled his fingers for emphasis on the last two words. Because seriously, it was powder. A good stiff wind is all it takes to defeat it.

"Shut up." Derek snapped.

"You know, if this is how you treated your girlfriend, I'm not surprised she's trying to kill you."

"Stiles." Derek growled, going full on Alpha glare. "If you don't shut up-"

"Yeah - throat, teeth. Gotcha."

Derek looked torn between mad that Stiles had interrupted him and proud that Stiles had gotten the message.

For his part, Stiles was torn between afraid because Derek was mad and mad because he might have done something to make Derek happy.

The animosity between them hadn't faded much since the truce between Derek and Scott. Stiles, in fact, had felt it growing the more Scott worked with Derek. Especially with Scott confessing the night before that he was thinking about joining Derek's pack.

"_**I can't do it alone, Stiles." Scott said, resting his forehead in his hand and closing his eyes. He looked more tired and beaten than Stiles had ever seen him. **_

"_**You're not alone, you've got me." Stiles said.**_

_**Scott looked at him sadly. "I need a pack, Stiles." **_

"_**So you're going to work with Derek?" Stiles replied, unable to keep his voice from rising in hurt and incredulity, even as he took in Scott's desperation. Because working with Derek would only make it worse. In fact, it was Derek's presence in the first place that had put them in this situation.**_

_**If it weren't for Derek, Scott would have never been discovered.**_

_**If it weren't for Derek, the Argents wouldn't hate Scott.**_

_**If it weren't for Derek, Scott wouldn't keep getting roped into these situations.**_

_**If it weren't for Derek, there'd have been no Kanima. **_

_**If it weren't for Derek, the alpha pack wouldn't be there.**_

_**If it weren't for Derek, there'd be no Hale pack, Allison's mother might still be alive, Boyd and Erica might still be alive, and Peter might not.**_

_**Stiles hand went reflexively to his right wrist, pressing into it roughly to cover the ghost of Peter's fingers. He could still feel the man's claws prickling at his neck as he slammed him against the car. He could still feel Peter's breath against his ear as he whispered threats. He could still smell the fresh stench of the dead nurse, wafting out of Peter's trunk. **_

_**He took a deep breath, remembering the man lying dead on the ground, and his heartbeat mellowed, his stomach unclenching. **_

"_**What other choice do I have?" Scott asked, eyes pleading as they stared into Stiles'. **_

_**Stiles didn't have an answer.**_

Stiles glanced at Derek, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought.

Stiles knew Derek had been having secret and frequent meetings with Scott. He knew he'd been training Scott, encouraging him to join the Hale pack. He couldn't help remembering his dad telling him about predators, how they manipulated and groomed their prey. How they made them dependent. It seemed silly at the time, but he couldn't help wondering if that was what Derek had been doing. If Derek had been grooming Scott and making him dependent on Derek, setting himself up as the only option for Scott. It made sense in a fucked up way.

Stiles took a moment to appreciate the fact that Derek actually was a predator – psychologically and physically.

"Well what do we have here?" A soft voice spoke from behind them and Derek and Stiles turned, finding Ethan standing there in his rock album jacket and faded jeans. Still in human form, he was covered in blood, holding the dead body of Peter with one hand.

Stiles gulped, taking a step behind Derek and kind of hating himself for it. It made him fell a bit better that Derek instinctively took a step in front of Stiles, shielding him from view.

"Well isn't that just adorable." Ethan said, tossing Peter's corpse aside. "See, that's your problem Derek, you're trying to be a hero. But you're not, are you? Biting damaged teenagers – I get what you were trying to do really," Ethan said, pacing around them and picking at his nails, "But it doesn't really work, does it? High school misfits – they're too angry, too unpredictable. Now Jackson, you had the right idea with him. If only he get over the whole orphan thing. I mean 'Wah, wah, wah' we get it, you have two loving parents who took you in, give you everything you want, and don't ask for anything in return. Your life is so hard." Ethan stopped, looking at Derek in amusement and realization.

Derek stiffened, holding his arms out and letting his claws extend.

"Oh, Derek." Ethan said, voice hitching in laughter. "Is that why you bit him? Is that why you hated him?"

Derek grew impossibly more rigid, his jaw flexing irritably.

"It must have been awful," Ethan said. "Here you are, all on your own with no family, and there's Jackson, incessantly whining when he has everything you want. Everything that was taken away from you."

"Is a villain monologue really necessary?" Derek growled, voice slightly muffled behind clenched fangs.

The thing was, Stiles actually sort of agreed with Ethan. Which probably isn't great, agreeing with your enemy.

There was a momentary pause as Ethan studied Derek. "Stiles." Ethan said, not breaking eye contact with the other alpha. "Who killed Boyd and Erica?"

Stiles glared, even as his abdomen tightened in fear and anxiety. No one told him there'd be a quiz. "Colonel Mustard in the library with the wolfs bane." He deadpanned.

"Cute." Ethan replied.

"I thought so." Stiles mumbled.

"But I'm guessing that's not the story Derek concocted."

Stiles frowned, looking at Derek who was still as a statue. He looked back at a smirking Ethan.

"What did Alpha Hale say?" Ethan asked.

Stiles' brows furrowed as he thought back. "He said you killed them."

"Did he?"

"No." Derek bit out.

Stiles remembered Derek traipsing into Deaton's, huffing and snarling more than usual. "He said," Stiles started, staring off into the distance as the uneasy feeling in his gut grew, "That they were dead because of the Alphas." Stiles turned his attention to Derek. "Derek, who killed them?"

"I didn't lie." Derek said, avoiding the question but giving Stiles all the answer he needed.

"Oh my god." Stiles said, taking a horrified step back. "You – why?"

"To be fair to Derek, it was probably because they were trying to kill him." Ethan said, back to inspecting his nails.

"Why?" Stiles repeated, not sure if he was asking why Derek killed them, why Erica and Boyd were trying to kill Derek, or why any of this was happening at all. So many questions, half formed and incomprehensible, flittered across Stiles' mind.

"Alpha status. Anger. Derek's a shit alpha. Take your pick." Ethan said.

Stiles, confused and disheartened, glanced at Peter's corpse lying prone on the desert floor.

"They're still trying to kill us." Derek reminded Stiles.

"No." Stiles said, shaking his head. "They're trying to kill you."

That's all the alpha pack had done since they'd come into town, was chase after Derek. Attack Derek. Follow Derek. Stiles had thought it was weird, and then Erica and Boyd showed up dead and suddenly the battle was on, Scott and Derek coming together officially to fight a war against the alphas.

"Stiles." Derek started, looking back at Stiles with furrowed brows.

All Stiles could think of was Scott, out there somewhere risking his life because of Derek.

Stiles remembered a distinct moment, when the werewolf thing had all started out. He'd been on skype with Scott when he'd seen a figure lurking in the background, hiding in the shadows of Scott's bedroom. At the time, he remembered thinking Derek was there to kill Scott, but it turned out the jackass had only been there to convince Scott to join the pack. He was determined, apparently, to make it happen one way or another. And Stiles couldn't let it, because guys who lurk in shadows are rarely trustworthy, and the problem with Derek is he never stepped out of them.

"He's right, you know." Ethan said, nails lengthening and face contorting. "Everyone else is just caught in the cross hairs."

This is what would happen, Stiles told himself as he reached into his pocket, if Derek was Scott's alpha. If Scott was in Derek's pack this would never end.

"Don't trust him, Stiles." Derek said, voice edging on pleading as he stared down Ethan. "They'll come after you and kill you the second they get a chance."

He might be right, was the problem.

"As fun as this has been," Ethan said, crouching down in an offensive stance, "I'm sick of talking."

With that, the talk was forgotten, Derek and Ethan lunging at each other. Stiles had seen werewolf fights a couple times, but nothing like the two alphas going at each other.

Claws tore at skin, Derek shredding Ethan's abdomen and Ethan tearing a set of lines down the side of Derek's face. Blood fell, dripping to the ground or soaking into t-shirts and jackets, and loud growls tore through the air. It was brutal and Stiles found himself looking away, wondering if this was what happened to Erica and Boyd.

Derek bit into the side of Ethan's neck, ripping the skin. Ethan cried out, guttural and animalistic, and dragged sharp talons down Derek's torso, sinking his own teeth into Derek's face and lunging forward to topple them to the ground.

A quick roll and Derek was on top, straddling Ethan and slicing fiercely into his flesh. Ethan spasmed underneath him, still swinging out damaging strikes against Derek as blood worked it's way up Ethan's throat, bubbling in his mouth.

Stiles hadn't been inactive during the alpha's fight. Taking the opportunity, the grabbed hold of Peter, dragging him closer. Fortunately, the eldest Hale had stayed transformed after death, meaning long claws protruded from his hand. Reaching into his pocket, Stiles pulled out the satchel filled with wolfs bane, coating Peter's talons with it.

As Derek gave the fatal blow, slicing a long line down Ethan's neck, Stiles thrust Peter's arm forward, embedding the deceased Hale's paw deep into his nephew's torso.

Derek let out a shocked howl as the wolfs bane flooded his blood stream, and turned his head, harsh red eyes glaring accusingly at Stiles.

Weakened from his fight with Ethan, Derek paled, black ooze dripping from his mouth. He didn't ask 'why' just slouched forward, letting out a pathetic whine. "If I survive," He started, coughing up inky liquid onto Ethan below. The other alpha, already dead, didn't protest, just stared up with hollow eyes as he was coated in Derek's poisoned essence.

"Yeah - throat, teeth. Gotcha." Stiles finished, feeling like he was going to be sick himself.

Derek let out a bitter, wheezing laugh and slouched forward. He was still alive, but it wouldn't last long, his breaths growing shallower. Stiles stayed where he was until Derek stilled, and then he stayed a little longer just to make sure.

Reaching shaking fingers forward, Stiles felt the pulse along Derek's neck. Dead. Very dead.

"Fuck." Stiles cursed, relinquishing his hold on Peter and stepping back. "Fuck." His voice broke and he gripped at his head, eyes flooding with desperate tears as he stared at the carnage in front of him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." An angry kick at the ground and a desperate sob later found him stumbling backward, falling to the desert floor as nausea and dizziness took him.

He thought indulgently about just laying there and waiting for the vultures to take him, but paranoia that Derek would magically spring back to life – after all, Peter did – and follow through on his promise had him rising to his feet and backing away, staring with wide eyes at the three dead werewolves. His feet were unsteady and tremors worked their way up his body, but he kept moving, walking backwards as he was too afraid to look away.

A chorus of 'What have I done?' echoed in his mind and he vaguely realized that terrifying sounds were escaping his mouth. He'd just killed someone. He'd never – except maybe Peter – but that was different. He'd killed Derek. It had seemed like the right thing to do, but this desperate, dirty feeling grabbing hold of him and making him feel tainted couldn't possibly be right.

Derek had been the last Hale. Stiles had literally brought an end to an entire familial heritage. An entire bloodline.

Stiles leaned forward, succumbing to nausea and spilling his guts on the ground.

"Easy there." A masculine voice to his right and a gentle hand on his back. Chris Argent, it turned out.

Accompanying the man were several more hunters, making their way over to the three corpses.

"What-" Stiles started before heaving again.

"Scott called Allison, Allison called me. Apparently wanted to say his final goodbyes." And the scorn Christ put into that sentence couldn't have been any more acrid. "Pity we couldn't get here in time." Chris said, nodding his head to the dead dog pile.

Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that Chris was more upset about missing the battle than the actual fatalities.

"Scott?" He asked, taking deep breaths and ignoring the acidic taste in his throat.

"He's fine. Back at the hotel." Chris explained.

Stiles nodded, taking deep breaths and glancing over at the hunters. They were lining the corpses, pulling out gasoline and matches. Getting rid of the evidence, it seemed.

"Not here." Chris snapped. "Gus, you take the kid back to the hotel. We'll use the other van."

Gus, a thin, unimposing guy in a trucker hat, waltzed on over, clapping Stiles on the shoulder and smiling. "How long you been hunting?" He asked.

Stiles dry heaved.

**Now:**

"_Stiles, what happened to Derek?" Ms. Morrell repeated and Stiles looked down at his hand, gripping tightly at his right wrist._

"_I don't know." He answered. _

"_According to witnesses, you, he, and Scott were spotted at a gas station out near the desert."_

"_Road trip." Stiles said. "Got into a fight, his uncle showed up with Derek's Camaro and they drove off."_

"_Stiles, I want to help you." Ms. Morrell said. "But you have to start being honest with me."_

_Stiles stared at her with wide eyes, swallowing around a thick throat. "I'm fine." He replied._

"_Are you, Stiles?"_

_That was the question, wasn't it. _

**Two Weeks Ago:**

The van pulled up in front of the hotel and Stiles opened the door, slipping out of the vehicle and ignoring Gus' chatter behind him. Slamming the door shut, he ran towards the hotel room he and Scott had reserved, pulling the door open desperately and entering the room.

Scott was sitting on one of the twin beds, Isaac next to him. Jackson was standing in the corner, arms defiantly crossed and pretending not to be as wrecked as Scott and Isaac were. They were all sporting blood and wounds and even Stiles could smell the heady scent of sweat.

"Stiles." Scott said, relaxing and letting out a relieved breath. He stood up, crossing the room in quick, easy strides and wrapping his arms around Stiles.

Stiles fell into the hold, closing his eyes and feeling infinitely less panicked. Scott was alive. Scott was safe – now more than ever.

"Derek?" Isaac asked from the bed and Stiles jumped, thinking that Derek somehow survived. When he looked up at Isaac's questioning face, he was hit with the realization that Derek had not survived and, more than that, this could possibly kill Isaac.

Surprisingly, he couldn't feel too guilty. Scott. Scott was what was important.

Even so, Stiles couldn't bring himself to speak and settled for shaking his head, the message clear to everyone.

Isaac let out a wounded noise, putting his face into his hands, and Jackson frowned. Scott's brows furrowed and he studies Stiles.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

**Now:**

"_Yes." Stiles replied. The bell rang and he sighed, standing up and grabbing his backpack. "I have to get to class." He said, swinging the bag over his shoulder._

_Ms. Morrell nodded, eyeing him wearily as he left the room. _

_Stiles worked his way through the crowd, flinching when people looked at him. Could they see it? That he'd murdered someone? He wondered if he'd be a repeat offender. _

_Did this make him like Kate? He found himself wondering that as he passed Allison in the hall. _

_Did this make him like Gerard? _

_Did this make him like Matt? _

_Worse, did this make him like Peter? _

_Stiles clutched at his right wrist, feeling the ghost of Peter's breath in his ear and the man's claws on his neck. He kept his eyes downcast when he passed Lydia, the guilt eating away at his abdomen. _

_Isaac was the worst and somehow the best to be around. The burden of Derek's death rested heavy on Stiles' shoulders, but the ghosts that flanked Isaac, the memories of Boyd and Erica, made Stiles strong against the weight._

_Isaac had adopted Scott as his new alpha. Unfortunately, that meant they spent a lot of time together and Stiles was more than a little jealous, but he tried to rein it in. It was kind of a benefit too, since Stiles was fighting desperately to tell Scott what he'd done. _

_Stiles walked into Economics, taking his place behind Scott. _

**Two Weeks Ago:**

Stiles and Scott sat on the hood of the jeep, looking up at the night sky. They were halfway back to Beacon Hills, forest and hills already replacing the rough desert. They were staying at the campground for the night, unable to afford or stand another hotel room after the past few days. Stiles didn't think he'd be able to stand another hotel room for the rest of his life. Or a desert.

"So the Argents wiped out all the alphas?" Stiles asked, taking in the stars. He felt calm now, with Scott laying next to him, his best friend's warmth pressing into his side.

"I helped." Scott said and Stiles smiled.

A moment of peaceful silence passed between them.

"So, Derek?" Scott asked, looking at Stiles curiously.

Stiles fought back the wave of guilt that washed over him. "Yeah?"

"I can't believe he's gone." Scott mused. "Kind of seemed like he'd be there forever, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Not sure what I'm gonna do now." Scott said.

"What do you mean?" Stiles shifted upward, looking down at Scott curiously.

"Well, I was going to join his pack and everything."

"You don't need another pack, dude." Stiles said, playfully pushing Scott's shoulder and settling back down against the jeep.

"Another pack?" Scott raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. I mean, you got me. Allison, apparently." Stiles waggled his eyebrows at Scott, eliciting a laugh from the teen wolf. "Your mom."

"That's not pack, that's family."

"Same thing." Stiles countered.

Scott's face softened and he turned warm brown eyes to Stiles. "You think?"

"Yeah, dude. Remember how Derek was all "You're my brother now."" Stiles said, pitching his voice low and mimicking Derek.

"Yeah, but it never felt right."

"That's because it was Derek." Stiles replied.

Scott looked at the stars thoughtfully.

"I mean, did you really want to be that guy's brother? Have an Uncle Peter?" Stiles said, clutching at his wrist again.

"God no." Scott said, shuddering.

"You and me, though, we're basically brothers."

"Cousins." Scott countered. "Distant cousins."

"Shut up dude." Stiles said, punching Scott's bicep lightly. Scott laughed. "And you and Allison, you're basically married. Your mom's your mom. My dad's basically your dad."

"He doesn't know about werewolves though." Scott argued.

"Yeah, but we're a package deal. If I'm in your pack, he's in your pack too."

Scott nodded.

"Then there's Deaton, totally pack." Stiles said at Scott's curious look. "The guy's, like, your Yoda. Now you got Isaac. And, maybe Jackson."

Stiles and Scott cringed. "Ew." They said simultaneously.

"I heard that!" Jackson yelled from his Porsche.

"Shut up and go to sleep!" Stiles shouted back, ignoring Jackson's grumbling. "Hey, if Jackson's in your pack you think that means Lydia is too."

"Dude." Scott said wearily, giving Stiles a disapproving look. "I thought you were getting over her."

"I am. I just think we'd be awesome BFFs."

"What about me?" Scott asked.

"Dude, if she becomes my BFF, you're out." Stiles said and Scott gaped. "Oh, come on, she knows how to make Molotov cocktails and she speaks archaic Latin. She's like the Black Widow to my Hawkeye."

Scott returned Stiles' punch from earlier. "Allison is Hawkeye." He said.

"Who are you?"

"I get to be Captain America."

"I'm Iron Man."

"Dude, you're Jarvis."

"What?! Scott, if you get to be Captain America, then I'm totally Iron Man."

"What's wrong with me being Captain America?"

"Dude, you're Latino."

"So?"

"So Captain America's from the 40's!"

"And Iron Man was a genius."

"I could so be a genius."

"Stiles, you remember that IQ test?"

"I was having an off day!"

"You're having an off life."

"Would you shut up?! Some of us are trying to sleep!"

"Fuck you Jackson!"

"In your dreams Stilinski!"

"That was one time!"

"What?!"


End file.
